On The Borderline Of Broken Dreams
by SerenityBay5
Summary: This story is meant to fill in some gaps regarding the story of Lisa Reisert and Jackson Rippner, and then to propel the reader right back into the thick of things. It begins with an ending but continues on to reveal a much bigger behind the scene story
1. Chapter 1 That Day

That day,

The sun light blasted threw his closed eyelids in a golden reddish hue that mimicked the burning sensation in his chest. He knew it was bad. Two gun shots at close range. One shot going clear through him. His shirt, saturated with his own blood, was now torn open. But he couldn't open his eyes anymore. He didn't even notice the movement of the gurney beneath him as paramedics were running him over to the ambulance. He could no longer hear any of the external sounds around him. He was focused purely on his battle to breathe. His right lung was in agony as it filled with blood and fluid, a painful sensation that increased in intensity as he fought for every breath. Each time he struggled for a gulp of air he could hear the sound of fluid crackling, popping, fizzing from within him all while knowing this was killing him.

_I'm drowning, I'm dying. _He told himself as he grew weaker. Blood was now spewing out of his mouth as he coughed and gagged at what little air he could grasp. The color in his face had darkened as he was loosing his battle to live. His whole body was fighting its last fight now as his arms and torso struggled against the restraining straps around him. The paramedics had to stop and struggle to secure him down tighter into the gurney all while pumping air through a portable respirator forced over his face and down into his throat as they tried to keep his left lung from total collapse.

The sunlight outside the house was bright and the air warm against his skin, but his mind began to fill with dark cold images of that girl back inside the house. And much like his lungs filling with fluid, these thoughts filling his mind destroyed him.

_How could she, how could she? _He told himself as he began to drift into unconsciousness.These were his last coherent thoughts whispered to the darkness as it began to swallow him. Then he felt the release, and relief, the calmness of nothing.

The paramedics quickly rolled him into the back of the ambulance. As the vehicle sped away he never knew of the commotion he was leaving behind back in that house, nor of the situation the paramedics were dealing with as they tried to bring him back from cardiac arrest. And he definitely never knew of the four dark unmarked cars that now raced down the highway alongside the ambulance escorting him away.


	2. Chapter 2 Three Months Later

Three Months Later…

Lisa was at a loss as to why so many months after the initial incident she was now having trouble sleeping. On that particular day, much to her relief, she had been told by the authorities that her would be assassin, Jackson Rippner, had died in the ambulance on his way to the hospital. But the horrible memories of that morning now ran fresh and raw as nightmares in her dreams and it now made her afraid to fall asleep at night.

With her Dad's encouragement Lisa sought out the advice of a Doctor who specialized in Sleep Disorders. This doctor diagnosed her as having Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome caused from an earlier emotional suppression of an assault, a rape that she had not yet emotionally recovered from. That incident combined with her traumatic experience with Jackson Rippner made all her suppressed fears and emotions resurface. In her sleep as her mind tried to sort out these two events her subconscious merged the unidentified rapist and Jackson all into one person who now haunted her in nightmares. This was the cause of her anxiety and insomnia. She was then told that with medication and therapy she would eventually be able to overcome these fears and the nightmares would subside but the treatments would take some time.

With her health deteriorating due to lack of sleep Lisa's Dad, Joe Reisert, convinced her to move back home. Though his home was where Jackson had stalked and attacked Lisa, it was also where Joe had rescued her. It was Joe who had fired that last shot into Jackson at close range. It was this last shot that threw Jackson clear away releasing his grasp on Lisa. It was Joe, her Dad, her hero, who worried about her each night now and wanted to do all he could to help her piece her life back together again.

But while trying to sleep upstairs in her old bedroom, this night her anxiety was like all the other bad nights. As she tried to sleep her mind raced on reliving the nightmare back on that day, that early morning flight back home, when she met Jackson Rippner, and when he first attacked her in the bathroom on the plane. This particular nightmare always began with the same hollow phrase echoing, in her voice, in her mind, in the darkness leading to the vision of her fears.

"You don't have to do this, any of this." Lisa whispered while forcing the words out and staring straight into Jackson's cold blue eyes. Jackson was standing so close to her she could feel his full body weight pressed up against hers pinning her to the hard surface of the bathroom wall. His right hand still cupped beneath her chin holding fast to her throat. His breath hot on her face, his hair mingled with hers. His left hand placed firmly on her shoulder gripping her tightly, holding her fast. Her fear now welling up from her chest choked off her ability to move as he was choking off her strength to fight back. _Too close, he's too close._ The scream raced through her mind as she tried to hold his stare and hide her trembling.

Jackson looked her directly in the eyes and let out a sigh and a slight smirk as he tilted his head slightly and grinned. He gave himself a second to revel in his dominance over her. His body was hard and electrified pressed up against hers. She was soft and defenseless in his grip. He could feel her trembling beneath him and she was aware it made his breathing quicken. In everything from the scent of her hair, the warmth of her breath, the softness of her body, it all made him burn from deep within the darkness, this darkness that grew in his cold blue stare. His ever watching, ever piercing blue cold crystal, sharp and lethal eyes now long empty of anything human. And he could hardly contain himself. He wanted to make every second of her agony last an eternity. And she saw his expression change. He seemed like a cat having just caught its prey. His mouth was so close as he admired hers. His eyes now black as onyx, gleaming at her, glaring, taunting, toying, as if saying "I can take you now!"

And then a look of curiosity overcame him as he glanced down to admire the soft delicate skin that caught his attention at the neckline of her blouse.

"_I can't let him win, I will not let him have power or possession over me,"_ Lisa winced as she felt his mouth so close to hers again and his breathing hot against her face. She tasted her growing anger and agony that he was doing this to her, and her frustration in knowing her body would betray her in this violation, that she will be powerless again.

"_Not again_." In the perspiration of her fear she prayed, "_No not again." _

Jackson traced the round curve of her right breast as he began to pull down the front of her blouse with the tip of his thumb. And then he saw it, the scar on her breast. The most surprising thing to find emblazoned right there on her skin. This was definitely the mark of something.

He was disturbed to see this imperfection and yet now also very curious. He was the cat once more. "Did some one do this to you?" He demanded using a compassionate yet firm voice as he looked back up at her.

Still trembling Lisa in defiance shook her head and barely mouthed the word, "No".

His black eyes glare back at her. He heard the blatant lie. He saw right to her wounded soul, he knew her now. He knew her weakness and fear. But worse, he knew the measure of her strength. He looked down at her scar again and then back to her eyes. And Lisa trembled. She was visibly shaking. He softened his voice ever so slightly. "Is that what it is?" he whispered as he studied her every movement.

Trembling even more now Lisa fought back her fear and flashed her eyes in defiance at him and again managed to draw up the courage to lie and say the word "No".

And with that one word he grabbed her by the throat and spun her around and slammed her up against the opposite wall. His face was now up against hers his teeth and jaw jutting out, his expression a fury of anger, as his hands wrapped tightly around her neck.

"No!" Lisa struggled, her hands grasping at her throat, "I can't Breathe, I can't breathe!" She gasped sitting up in bed and trying to fight off imaginary arms clutching her. But she only became entangled in her own bed sheets and tumbled off the bed to the floor along with the bedding that went with her.

And in the darkened walls of her old bedroom, huddled on the floor, she cried, and cried, until exhausted, and in the early pre-dawn hours of that morning she managed to finally fall asleep.


	3. Chapter 3 Far away

Far away….

The morning light glimmered through the misty fog as it spilled out on the blue rolling waves that collapsed on the Pacific shore.

The man sat down on the couch facing the living room window. He let his walking cane fall to the bare hardwood floor. He no longer felt he needed it and kicked it underneath the couch.

Outside the sky was starting to clear. A cool breeze hugged the shore.

He was barefoot dressed only in his pajamas bottoms and a robe. He could feel the cold air drifting in through the open screen door and windows of his modest 3 bedroom beach house. He could smell the slightly sweet burnt odor coming from the fireplace at the far end of the room. It still smoldered from the previous night's fire. It was nice to be home. He was glad to be home amongst all his own things and his own thoughts.

Turning sideways on the couch he swung both his legs on top of the cushions and stretched them out before him. He leaned back into the cushions and closed his eyes. He tried to take in a slow deep breath but instead broke out into a coarse raspy cough. This painful cough was still not as severe as it had been previous weeks. He figured the antibiotic he was taking for his bout with pneumonia was finally doing its job.

Once again he closed his eyes and this time let his breathing slow to short shallow breaths. He heard absolutely nothing around him except the gentle roar of the waves outside on the beach and the sweet sound of the wind whispering through the window screens.

With his eyes still closed he took in the sensation of the cold air running along his face and down across his bare feet. _How peaceful_, he thought to himself, _calm and peaceful._ Here he sat for a few more minutes in this quiet sanctuary of time, not moving, not thinking, trying to block out any thoughts of the past.

And then he let go of this moment and opened his eyes. He reached for the folder that had been at his side on the couch and he began to read through it. He was oblivious to everything around him. His focus was solely on the folder in his hands. He studied each page, each note, and map. He reviewed every photograph. And then he pulled out from the file one photo of a young woman. He held it up closer to his face. "Oh yes," he said out loud, his jaw tense with anger, his voice a low menacing growl, "I can't wait to be finished with you."

Just then the phone rang behind him from across the room. He tossed the photo back into the file and slowly stood up. Disregarding his cane he limped over to answer the phone. From a small desk he picked up the cordless device and carried it back to the couch where he stretched both legs out in front of him on the cushions again as he sat back down.

"Okay, clear, this line is secure, encryption on, so go ahead and tell me what have you got for me and this file? Give me the latest update." he asked the voice on the other end of the line. Obviously this was an expected call and a reply to an earlier request.

But there was an awkward pause and then hesitation in the voice that replied. "Sir, bad news, It's just posted that all Lighthouse 2 research and information has been compromised. The orders are that no further involvement or action be taken on anything that has in any way a connection to Lighthouse 2. Protocol level 3 must be followed."

"You're kidding me right?" The man asked as he slumped back into the corner of the couch in disbelief.

"No sir." the voice replied back. "It seems your project files have been purged and all previous work is now classified as invalid. That is the official stamp and seal, sir."

"I can't believe this. I've never heard of such a thing ever happening to a Lighthouse team. Did you just say that my assignment, my project has been erased?" The man was completely beside himself with frustration. He raised his hand over his furrowed brow and rubbed his closed eyes in dismay.

"My God," he continued as he tried to keep his temper and his voice down, "We lost, no I lost a very good man on this project and you're now telling me that it was all for nothing?" There was silence and still no answer on the other side of the line.

"Damn it," he continued now angered by the silence, "What about the principles, the targets? That stuff out there was real man. What about that?" He knew the caller would be reluctant to give out too much specific information but he needed to know as much as he could. The caller's silence was hitting him like a brick in the face.

"I mean my guy's gone, he's not ever coming back. I knew and worked with him for almost 10 years. He was extremely good at his job. He has a wife and kids that I still have yet to face. This new situation is totally fucked, it's inexcusable!" The man felt the tightness well up in his chest as he sprang up from the couch to his feet. His teeth were clenched as he, disregarding his injury, began to pace the room making each step a pounding statement of his anger.

"Now you tell me, what the hell happened over at Lighthouse 2? I don't give a fuck about the phone line. I want to know and I want to know now." The words were coming out in rapid succession as the man pounded his fist on the back of the couch while he continued to pace the floor behind it.

"We're looking at 4 months of research, warrants, and surveillance work done at a considerable cost to the government. All this has to be justified and accounted for. How the fuck could this mess happen? If there was a problem, a compromise why wasn't it caught earlier? We have failsafe do we not? Who or what is responsible? And why the hell was my file purged?"

"Ah sir," Finally the voice responded on the line, "There is a complication. There was an incident caused by the consolidation of departments due to shifts and cutbacks in funding, and Lighthouse 2 was merged back with its sister team Lighthouse 1. Some how an alert was given and assignment docs were placed under SOP review. Only then the discrepancies became apparent to Lighthouse 1 staff."

"Did you say discrepancies? Go on, continue." The man urged the caller.

"Sir, to put it simply, some one at Lighthouse 2 broke protocol and created gaps in reports so some one else could fill in the holes. It was a team infiltration in our Lighthouse 2 system. And it allowed for a lot of fabrication."

"Oh God," The man paused and looked at the phone in disbelief, "did I hear you right? Did you say fabrication?"

"Unfortunately yes that is what was found when it was noted that the codes used for confirmation and certification were wrong and out of sequence."

"How much of it was corrupted and invalid?"

"Sir they were able to isolate a time line of activity and make alist all the fabrications and your project was included on that list."

"You know what I'm going to ask next. What about that one family, are you saying they were actually innocent of all claims and charges of conspiracy with the target?"

"Yes sir. This is the official conclusion. They were innocent of all claims and charges except for that one big claim against her. She is guilty of that one. But no charges have been filed as of yet and now due to the present circumstances it's questionable. Please give my condolences to his family sir."

The man clenched his jaw once again. He gritted his teeth and felt the early sensation of a migraine pound at his temples. "So you're saying we terrorized and almost eliminated an innocent family which resulted in the death of one of our men and it was all caused by a fabrication of evidence?"

There was no response from the caller.

"And what of the 'Target' is his threat actually real?"

"Yes sir, he's real and on the move. He's got the top 'Chairs' by their balls. And they're out to get him before he becomes another international embarrassment. We know he got wind of the investigation, we know he is the source that fed misinformation to Lighthouse 2, and we know he still hopes to stall us so he could better negotiate an escape."

"And my cover? Can he identify me? Does he know I exist?"

"No sir, he does not know, and your cover is still intact. As standard procedure, we listed you and your associates with aliases as foreign born nationals. . And the extra precaution was taken to purge your file and project from all Lighthouse systems so you are still well tucked under the radar."

"Okay. I understand now. And the Russians what has been their take on this?"

"They're mad as hell and as impatient as ever, sir. They still want this target badly. They realize assassination might be too extreme now but they'll take him any way they can. The damage he might cause us is nothing compared to what he has already caused them."

"When did this Lighthouse 2 news break?"

"It happened about 48 hours ago."

"Is it contained? How messy is it?"

"Yes contained, all internal, marked classified on a short need to know only list. The 'Chairs' are very anxious to see us close in and silence this."

"I want to know more about these former Lighthouse 2 staffers. Are they under surveillance or reigned in and debriefed? Can you find out for me? Some one is doing jail time for this. Do you hear me? I'm going to push for it all the way up."

"The ball is already in motion sir. Michaels is acting point man and he is requesting your assistance. But he is aware of your health set backs and needs to know have you been cleared, what is your availability? He wants to make things right and complete the assignment. He wants you, sir, to finish the job."

"Great, tell him I'm ready, I'm fine, and send me a car."

"Yes sir, will do right away. I'll have a car there in one hour to take you to the airport. Michaels will be waiting and anxious to meet with you."

The caller relayed further flight arraignments to the man and then ended the call. The man now stood alone in the room feeling numbed by all the news and yet he was ready to get started. He threw the phone on to the couch in growing anger at the thought of all that had developed. His headache pounded louder and the pain in his chest made breathing difficult.

He picked up the file from the couch and walked over to the smoldering fireplace at the side of the room. As he leaned over and tossed all the documents and photos into the reignited flames he wondered if this chest pain was what a heart attack might feel like.

He blankly starred at the photo of the young women as it burned up in the flames along with the other papers. His emotions were now mixed. He didn't want any further memories of this girl flooding back into his mind and yet he was troubled by all that he had just learned. He knew she was still unfinished business.

And then he heard the screen door slam.

"John!" the woman's voice exclaimed, "What are you doing up out of bed?" She quickly filed into the house caring plastic grocery bags, "You know you're not quite your self yet. Both the doctor and I are in agreement on this. You need to slow down."

The man sheepishly grinned at her. He stood up and leaned away from the fireplace and turned to smile at her. "Oh good-morning Megan, while you two were out a courier came by and brought me some work to read. I'm finished with it and I'm just burning it now. That's all. I thought it would make for a better fire then for light reading. Where is the little squirt by the way?" He tried his best to chuckle and sound casual and to hide any hint of tension or pain in his voice. Megan was the one person he could never fool.

"I'm right here!" cheered the little boy. He came running in from the outside porch. "Look what I got from the store!" The 3-year old held up an open bottle of bubble soap and a small soapy plastic wand that began to drip soap suds on the floor.

John grinned at the sight of the little sparkly-eyed dynamo that stood before him. But the woman remained steadfast in her concern and growing anger at his disregard for her. She heard him all too clearly. She had learned to specially dread the word 'courier' for it was his code for another work assignment away from them.

"Hey! What did I say about those bubbles?" The woman yelled over her shoulder as she began to unpack the bags of food for storage in the fridge and cupboards. She knew the man was watching her. He was studying her reaction. She was suddenly tense her mouth dry. Not wanting to believe he was going back on his promise to her she looked over at him. "I picked up your prescription refill for those antibiotics. Make sure you take them as required, the last thing we need is you getting sick all over again and ending up back in that horrid hospital."

He glared at her and let out a sigh in annoyance and looked away.

She began placing cans of peas above her in the cupboard, but one can fell back out and hit the counter with a loud smacking sound. She angrily picked up the can and continued speaking, "And those sedatives, do you know they keep replenishing that prescription no questions asked? Do you still need them to sleep? And hey! Where are your slippers anyways?" She snapped at him angry that she sounded like his mother. She wanted to throw the can of peas at him but instead just placed it neatly on the shelf with the others.

He hated her intrusiveness about his health. "Really dear it's just an annoying little cough that keeps me awake at night. It's nothing serious now." John stretched his arms out to embrace the little boy but then watched him smile, wave good-bye, turn around, and run right back out to the porch.

"Do you need help with any of this?" He asked as he walked over to assist her in the kitchen. He began peeking into the bags.

She looked down at his leg noting he was no longer using his cane. "No, I'm alright. You, you just go sit out on the porch with your son for a few minutes until I can put all this away. And be sure to bundle up or at least stay in the sun. You look awfully pale."

"But Megan, we do need to talk." The man said as he headed for the porch. He hesitated at the screen door and looked out at the small child.

"Okay then be honest John when is the car coming for you this time?" Megan asked him as he stood at the door.

He hesitated and looked back at her. Her eyes were now both full of hurt and anger. And they burned into his. He knew she was always two steps ahead of him. He could never fool her.

"The flight leaves in 3 hours and the car will be here in one." He replied as he tried to soften his expression.

The woman grabbed some jars and quickly turned her back to him. "How can you do this after everything that's happened? What if that car had come for you before we got back home? Would you have left us?" She fought back tears. "After all he needs you." She pointed towards the porch and the boy playing outside.

"Meg, I need you. Turn around and look at me. Let's not fight. I would not have left like that." Realizing that he had to be honest with her he walked over and placed his hands on her shoulders. With just his touch he could feel her shoulders drop as she broke out in tears. She turned around and fell into his arms as he hugged her and tried to console her.

He understood her pain but he just didn't want to deal with it for it meant coming to grips with his own.

She felt the distance growing between them as he stood silent holding her in the kitchen. She regained her composure and looked up at him. "John, you know after Danielle's death, Karl and I thought…"

His expression of compassion vanished as his eyes became cold and resentful. "Meg it was a suicide. Just say it. Not just a death. There's a difference." He released his arms from her and walked back to the screen door. His emotions were a mix of anger and sorrow. He did not feel comfortable talking any further about the subject. But how could he make her stop.

"It's just that Karl and I thought you would let us adopt and raise Justin for you." She leaned up against the counter studying his reaction as he stood perfectly still looking out to the porch. And then he sighed and looked down at the floor.

He turned back to face her. But she was a painful sight to see. She looked like an older version of what Danielle could be had Danielle lived. "Meg, I have seriously considered your offer. I really want to do the right thing for Justin."

John walked back and leaned next to her against the counter. "But I've got a car coming for me in less than an hour and I can't make that decision now. You know if anything happens he's yours." He looked down at her and brushed the hair away from her eyes. He suddenly realized how much her eyes looked just like Danielle's. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head like he had done before back in happier times.

She looked up at him and tried to force a smile but the sadness was just below the surface. "Okay John I'll let you go for the last time but promise me that when you come back we will settle this. You have to make some kind of decision for Justin's sake okay?"

He put his arm around her and gave her a gentle nudge, "I promise this is work for the last time." He loved his son very much but he also knew that his type of work offered no special allowances for single fathers. It had been his intention all along, since his wife passed away 2 years ago, to resign his post and put in for a transfer to a quiet desk job. It was only because of the problems with this last assignment that he had been unable to make good on his promise and submit his request for transfer.

He turned to Megan and reached over to giver her another reassuring hug but this time she swatted at his arms. "Okay, okay enough of that. Go make your self useful then." Her voice trembled as she tried to be the authoritarian again. "Go spend a few minutes with your son while I go to the attic and get your suitcase down from retirement."

And so the moment of closeness between them was gone. John let her go and walked towards the porch. He felt awkward and vulnerable at her rejection and control over him.

Without looking back at her he opened the screen door and stepped outside.

The little boy was sitting on a bench as his feet swung back and forth with glee while the front of his shirt dripped with bubble soap. He waved the bubble wand madly in front of him as he shot a big smile up at his dad.

"Hey Justin, show me some more of those bubbles, wow that's pretty good. Can I try?" John asked as he sat next to him on the bench.

The woman stopped her work and watched them through the screen door. _He's still without slippers!_ She laughed to herself as she noticed John's bare feet. She heard the small boy squeal with joy at the many bubbles now flying around the porch. Shaking her head in silence she wiped at bitter tears and walked away.


	4. Chapter 4 A Small Ray of Light

**A small ray of light**

A small ray of morning light flickered through the bedroom curtains like confetti in the air. Lisa stared up at the ceiling of her room as she lay on the floor on top of the jumble of pillows and bed linen that had originally been on her bed the previous night. She gazed about the room as she looked to confirm that she was indeed awake and safe.She looked under her bed and to her surprise there she saw her field hockey s/tick.

_Hey, there it is._ She told herself as she reached under the bed and pulled the stick out. It was a bit dusty but still in one piece. She held it up in front of her as she lay on the floor.

The memories of playing field hockey years ago at school rushed back into her head. These thoughts brought a smile to her face as she began to recall some of the moves she made during matches against opposing teams. She remembered how happy she had once been. She got up from the floor still holding the stick in front of her in a stance ready for play as she lingered on the memory of her pushing her way across the playing field and lining up to take a shot at goal.

And then Lisa caught sight of herself in her bedroom mirror, and suddenly from far back in her mind the image of Jackson came pouncing out at her again with his knife in his hand. She jumped back from the mirror, startled that this vision would invade her room once more. She sat back down on the edge of her bed and looked at the hockey stick as she let it fall from her hands.

In the time that Lisa watched the stick fall to the floor, she remembered the sound of the gun going off in front of her face. Lisa remembered hearing herself scream and feeling the sharp tug at her hair on the back of her head. And she remembered falling forward at the same time she felt Jackson pull away and fall down behind her in the opposite direction.

Lisa stood up from the bed and stood over the hockey stick much like she had stood over Jackson as he lay helpless sprawled on the floor. She remembered the obvious look of pain on his face; the blood beginning to stain the front of his shirt; and the gun shot that had just sent him reeling backwards freeing her from his grip.

As Lisa continued to stare down at the hockey stick she could still hear Jackson's gurgled breathing as his chest heaved up and down. She recalled watching him struggle for air and not caring that he lay there dying. She remembered that he didn't say a thing to her as she stood over him. He just stared back. Was that sadness in his eyes? Was it anger? He just looked at her for a few seconds and then he looked away as if to dismiss her, or was it his acknowledgement of defeat? She didn't know, and would never know.

Lisa kicked at the hockey stick with her foot.

_You're dead and gone, may you rest in peace where ever you are. _She gave the stick one last kick and sent it sliding back under her bed. "There for safe keeping." She breathed out loud and walked away to her closet to begin her search for clothes to wear for the day.

Only then did Lisa hear the noise of the TV from downstairs. _Oh no dad, I was going to wake him up!_

Lisa quickly spun around and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. 9:45 AM read the digital display in bold red numbers. She had forgotten to set her alarm clock again. She should have been up at 7:00 this morning for she had promised to help with making breakfast. But because she had not fallen asleep until 3:00 AM, she totally forgot her time commitments for the day. She quickly grabbed some clothes, threw them on the bed, and ran to the bathroom to shower.

-----------

Joe Reisert was sitting at the breakfast counter in his kitchen going through the day's mail when he heard the sound of water running in the shower upstairs.

_Thank goodness she's awake. Hmmm, a bit late but at least she's up and about, _he thought as he glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall.

He had two stacks of mail in front of him on the marble counter top. One stack was for bills, and one was for miscellaneous ads. However, he held on to one last envelope that he was unable to identify. This letter had been delivered several days ago, but Joe was just now spending the time sorting his mail.

Joe walked to the counter close to the back door and began searching through a small drawer. Here he kept his extra pair of reading glasses. Finding them at last he walked back and sat at the counter again as he examined the return address listed on the envelope.

_Hmmm, looks official, like some sort of government agency, but no real name listed on here as to who sent it to us_.

Joe looked for something to open the envelope with. He found a table knife and carefully slit the top of the letter. Inside he found a long, typed document with an official government seal on the upper-right hand corner of the page.

_Could this be the thank you note from the office of Deputy Secretary of Homeland Security Charles Keefe?_ Joe began to read the letter in earnest, but quickly put it down after reading the first paragraph. He gasped and placed his hand over his mouth at the same time.

Picking up the letter once more, Joe half walked, half staggered to his favorite chair and sat down hard, disregarding the letter as it dropped out of his hands. He sat in the chair totally stunned not knowing what to think. Then, he heard the sound of the radio upstairs in the bathroom. He looked up at the ceiling once more to listen to Lisa going about her morning routine.

-------

Lisa had just flipped the on switch to her bathroom radio as the DJ announcer mentioned a song called 'Vienna' by The Fray. She usually disregarded the radio, and only used it occasionally to distract her thoughts during her morning hours. So now having disrobed, she quickly slipped in behind the shower curtain as the radio sputtered through its noise of commercials.

The running water hit her full in the face as the cascading flow sent its spray of warmth drenching her hair, face, and body. She loved the sensual feeling of water falling along her shoulders and down her back. _Like a nice warm blanket, s_he thought smiling with her eyes closed while letting the water completely envelop her.

She felt bad about missing breakfast with her dad. Now, she wanted to just relieve some of the stress that easily crept up on her over everything she did wrong.

The sensation of water pouring over her was so soothing to both her mind and melancholy spirit. She turned to let the water drench her face once again. She tilted her head back, and this time reveled in the sensation of water racing along her face, neck, shoulders, and further on down her body. She felt her tension slip away with the water that rushed on its own journey to the drain below her.

Lisa picked up the bar soap and began her usual pattern of lathering up her body and then rinsing off under this liquid warmth. She turned around rinsing herself in the small enclosure of the shower. She was careful not to slip as she gathered her wet, saturated hair away from her face.

Then, as she stood in the shower, Lisa became aware of the music from the radio filtering in through the shower curtain. This song started with a beautiful melodic piano sound that mimicked the water cascading around her.

Lisa smiled again to herself upon hearing the lovely music as she reached for her shampoo. She noted a very pleasant male voice singing along with the piano. This was a song she had never heard before. As she applied the shampoo to her hair, she noted the singer's soft, soothing voice.

Lisa stopped to listen to the singer, and upon hearing his words she accidentally let the shampoo pour out onto the shower floor. The song continued.

"There goes the downpour,

Here goes my fare thee well,

There's really no way to reach me,

There's really no way to reach me,

There's really no way to reach me,

'Cause I'm already gone ..."

Lisa knelt down and scooped the shampoo over to the drain. She continued to listen to this hauntingly beautiful voice flooding out from the radio.

"Only so many words that we can say,

Spoken upon long-distance melody,

This is my hello,

This is my goodness,

There's really no way to reach me,

There's really no way to reach me,

There's really no way to reach me,

'Cause I'm already gone ..."

Lisa stood up and looked at the shampoo in her hands and remembered washing her hands on a plane a few months earlier. The sadness and desperation of that time grew inside her again as the voice continued to sing.

"This is my distance,

This is my game face,

There's really no way to reach me,

There's really no way to reach me,

Is there really no way to reach me?

Am I already ..."

She held her hands under the downpour of water and watched the shampoo melt away as the singer on the radio brought his song to a close. But Lisa no longer heard his voice. She was remembering the face of the charming stranger she had met in the airport. Suddenly, she envisioned Jackson toasting his glass to her and she remembered his words.

"Well, here's to Henrietta, whose spirit is very much alive."

Now the shower did not seem so comforting. Lisa closed her eyes and began to shampoo her hair. The feeling of regret and melancholy flooded over her again, like the water and shampoo suds that now trailed down her body.

The haunting song played on in her mind and this time Lisa began to sing the song softly to herself.

"There goes the downpour,

Here goes my fare thee well,

There's really no way to reach me,

There's really no way to reach me,

There's really no way to reach me,

'Cause I'm already gone ...,"

Determined to get through this day with out any further disappointment, Lisa lifted her head to face the surging water one last time. She promised this would be today's final rinse of emotions and tears. She told herself that once she shut the water off, she would find composure again, go out, face her dad, and make the most of the rest of the day.

As Lisa turned the water off and reached for her towel, she continued to hum that sad melody to herself.

----------

Joe waited until he heard the sounds of Lisa's footsteps, before he stood up from his chair.

Lisa was dressed, vibrant, and ready to go. But she was almost too vibrant, as she tried to hide her real feelings of inadequacy from her dad.

She was over apologetic right away about missing breakfast with him. Joe just waved this off as not really important and motioned for her to sit by the kitchen counter.

"Lisa let me make you breakfast instead. You're going to need something to keep you going today," He chimed, trying to sound supportive as he picked up the fallen letter and walked back to the kitchen.

"Why do you sound so worried dad?"Lisa smiled back at him.

With much hesitation Joe handed Lisa the letter to read.

"Oh?" Lisa exclaimed, as she stared at the impressive letterhead and government seal at the top of the page.

"How patriotic looking." she laughed and then went silent as she began to read the first paragraph.

Lisa looked up anxiously at her dad. "They're sending a car to take us to the airport? We're being flown to Virginia? We must attend or we will face prosecution? There are pending indictments? Prison? Dad, what is this?" Lisa gasped, as she dropped the letter on the counter and held her hands to her mouth to stifle a scream. Her eyes were wild with disbelief and confusion.

"Oh dad," Lisa cried, as Joe came to her side and held her in his arms. "What's happening?"

"I don't understand it either sweetie." Joe replied, trying to sooth her, "There's a number it says we have to call. But I'm going to call George first."

"Who's George?" Lisa squeaked, in a half choking half crying voice.

"He's my attorney, this is serious, dear." He replied as he reached for the phone.


	5. Chapter 5 Welcome Home

**Welcome Home**

"Hello Betts." John smiled as he looked down at the smartly dressed woman sitting behind the reception counter. He had just made his way through the security guard station. He now stood at the all too familiar hallway entrance that lead to a world far removed from the beaches of the West Coast.

As he stood in front of Betty he reached inside his coat and pulled out a single long stemmed red rose. Betty's face lit up as he extended the rose to her.

This single offering had always been a long standing tradition of theirs dating back some years ago when Betty's husband had passed away from cancer. It was meant as an offering of condolence when John had brought her that first pink rose.

Years later, after the death of his wife, John started bringing Betty a Red Rose. "To symbolize the life we each still have ahead of us." He reminded her and she agreed.

Betty reached out and took the rose from him. "Oh John, it's always so good to see you. Welcome home! You've been away far too long. I was getting worried." Betty quickly opened a desk drawer where she had stored a slender glass vase. As she inhaled the sweet perfume of the rose she filled the vase with water from a water bottle she had near her computer.

"I was afraid I'd have to retire this vase. As always thank you dear." She smiled at him as she placed the vase on the counter next to him.

"Yes, well Betty, as you can see I've sort of come back from the dead. You know why I'm here right?" John leaned both his elbows on the counter as he lightly touched one of the waxy leaves of the rose.

"Of course I do. But first thing, you are to meet with Christopher Martin in room C109-Alpha sector." Betty leaned closer to John and tapped him lightly with the end of her pen.

"Martin?" John stepped back in surprise at the thought of seeing Chris Martin. He had worked with 'Marty' on several previous assignments. Martin actually worked from another branch of the same division and occasionally their paths would cross as needed back up or support. But it was highly unusual for some one from a different branch to give first meeting. Martin was known for having all kinds of talents that could be utilized assignments. But John always wondered why Marty got the "Special" clearance consideration on his badge. He was concerned that now he was about to find out.

"Yes John. Michaels has run into a bit of a delay. So on his behalf, Martin has jumped at the chance to talk to you first. You know how Marty is, so stay alert John." Betty pulled out a plastic badge holder and handed him a clipboard for his signature.

As John signed the clipboard, Betty printed out the standard bar coded badge for his clearance and authorization level. As he had done hundreds of times before, John handed the clipboard back to Betty and she pealed off his name from the label paper he just signed. Having placed the label on the printed badge Betty slid the paper into the plastic badge holder and handed this newly made badge to John.

"Here you go." She handed him his now completed badge that every one was required to wear inside the building once past her station.

"Is he still the same old Crazy Marty?" John asked as he stood trying to fasten the badge to his suit lapel.

"You know he is John. And yes, Martin is still in love with you dear, so mind your manners. I'm really glad you made it back. Don't forget to sign out before you leave okay?" And as was their habit Betty leaned forward, closer to John.

John having attached the badge to his lapel also leaned towards Betty and kissed her politely on her cheek.

"Be careful John." She whispered close to his ear.

"Sure Betts, always." He winked at her and patted her shoulder as he continued his walk to the meeting room.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John at last reached the right room, C109-Alpha sector.

He took in a quick breath and then swung open the door only to see Martin sitting alone at this small rectangular table that held only 4 chairs. The room was also surprisingly small. In a building of this size this room was almost the equivalent of a closet. John was immediately taken aback. He expected something completely different.

Martin immediately looked up at him with a big grin on his face. He had a pen and a blank legal pad in front of him on the table. There was absolutely nothing else in the room except the florescent lighting above and one small wall phone in the back corner of the room.

"Well if it isn't Johnny R. Jackson. Good to see you out walking with the living Jacks! But you still look like death of course. Come on in. Sit down." Marty waved him in.

"Fuck you too Marty." John sighed under his breath as he pulled up the chair across from Martin and sat down.

"Awww, is that any way to great a friend?" Marty leaned on the table with his elbows and smiled. "Sorry about Steffenhauser. I spoke to his wife."

"I haven't yet." John confessed with a shrug of his shoulders as he looked down at the table. John was uncomfortable reporting first briefing to Martin and he just couldn't shake the feeling that this meeting was not what it appeared to be.

"She asked about you. But I didn't give her any info. I don't know anything really. Care to talk about it?" Martin placed his hands out on the table in a questioning gesture.

"No." John quickly shot back, his voice sounding deliberately defensive. John knew Martin was stealth at psychological analysis. John wanted to make it clear that he have none of it from Martin. The room was feeling smaller by the minute.

"That's too bad." Martin continued, "Well then, I'll tell you what I've heard. There's a rumor you've been playing with the Russians again. Met up with a real Nakita you did. Except this time you got burned and had to go away for a while licking your wounds and all." He smiled sarcastically at John. Martin stood up and leaned against the wall behind his chair. His arms were folded across his chest as if he were a school principle now reprimanding a young student. Martin's scrutiny did not waver for an instant as he noted John's every movement, no matter how subtle.

"Yeah, supposedly it was something like that Marty." John gave him back an equally cold, hard, stare. Both men sized each other up just in case it was to come to a fist fight.

There was a pause. Martin, not falling for the threat, walked over and pulled a chair up alongside John. He turned the chair around and straddled down on it backwards so that he had the back of the chair in front of him to lean on, as he peered closer at John.

"Still, you have no visible scars that I can see." Martin continued as he tilted his head from side to side and mimicked closer examination of John.

"None that I'd care to show you Martin." John replied in growing anger. He pushed his chair back away from the table and held his hands out in front of him, ready to push Martin back if needed. "Look what's your problem here Marty, I came here to talk about Lighthouse 2."

"Oh yes that bit of blemish." Martin paused for effect as he continued to study John's reactions. "It is quite a boil on our ass right now I'm afraid." He sat up and stretched his arms out and looked away at the walls while scratching the back of his head in fake annoyance.

"So tell me Marty, what the hell happened?" John leaned forward folding his arms in front of him on the table. Now it was his turn to scrutinize Martin.

"It was all quite by chance, and a bloody miracle really if you ask me." Martin slumped slightly in his chair as he continued to look about the empty room.

"What do you mean, in what way?" John continued to prod Marty further for details.

"It came by way of one of our Belgium Teams." Marty said stoically as he looked at John directly.

"Belgium? That's strange they never have anything going on. Aren't they just a gateway classification?" John was stunned at hearing this location. He knew the teams there well, and had often used their resources for back up support to his assignments.

"You know they are Jacks." Martin continued, "But, wait till you hear the full story. All 12 teams have been wiped out. Blown completely to pieces and scattered. We're still picking up lost souls all over Europe and other locations."

"What?" This news hit John like a lightening bolt. His sat at full attention now as he listened to every word Marty was telling him.

"Gateway received key information regarding 'Our little domestic problem.' Before they could pass this news along proper channels to us, their organization was compromised and team members started disappearing. All that's left is Team Leader, alone at station house. It's now a full scramble. Everyone has either gone into hiding, or has been eliminated, and that's 'Eliminated' with a capital 'E', Jacks. All protocol and procedures are lost, game over." Martin Paused here for effect to emphasize the lethal consequences of some of the team members.

He continued the story, "So all are gone except for Team Leader. He's now running like a fox just ahead of the hounds, from safe house to safe house, marking signals, checking old drop sites, trying to make it back, trying to make contact without getting caught."

"What no Shadow Team, no Window and Door, nor Manhole Cover for him to slip through?" John asked as he envisioned poor Team Leader's predicament.

"No, strangely enough all were compromised almost as if from the inside out. And our guy has in his possession only one phone number."

"What, a single phone number?" John stiffened up looking incredulously at Marty.

"Yeah and it gets worse." Martin flashed John a quick look and then looked off in some distant page of his memory as he continued to speak. "His contact is Dept.35. But fortunately for him he had been to D35 once so he knew it was real."

"Damn right it is. I know those guys." John chimed nodding his head.

"But the problem is the phone number John. It's a new number. It was all he could grab during the scramble. In his mad dash he disregarded all formal protocol procedures for new numbers." Marty was now holding the pen and flicking it between his fingers. But John quickly noted no notes were written on the notepad.

"Oh shit, so if they have an internal infiltration of their division, then that phone number could be a plant." John blurted as he continued the line of thought Martin had described.

"Oh I'm not even to the critical part yet." Martin continued. "So our guy has no choice but to make the call. He's got one chance to get out, just seconds really, before any lock, or trace, can be made if the number is a trap."

"Yeah, that's right." John nodded in agreement again.

"And what does our guy do?" Martin paused again leaving John hanging on his words for added effect.

"Come on man the suspense." John pounded his fist on the table to encourage Marty to get on with the story.

"He dials the wrong number."

"What? Oh damn he's screwed!" John winced as he slumped forward lowering his head against the table and started to chuckle in total disbelief. "I mean if he tries dialing that number again it would definitely pop up if it's a trap."

"And it just gets worse." Martin continues.

"Can it?" John chides still with his head down and laughing to himself. He knows people have died, but he can't control thinking of the underlying dark humor at hearing of this disaster.

"Our guy believes the number is genuine." Martin continues, "He knows there is a Dept.35. He's been there. So he has either wrongly dialed the number or he wrote the number down wrong."

"So who did he call?" John inquired trying to regain his composure.

"Now here's the miracle part. The actual number he dialed is in West Los Angeles. Well, not too far from that Federal Building out there on Wilshire. And as it turns out it apparently is the number to some student dormitory room at a nearby University."

"What the hell? Now I know you've got to be making this up Marty!" John now closed his eyes and shook his head in utter disbelief.

"No I'm not. I'm dead serious John." Martin face is void of any emotions. "For reasons I won't discuss further this dorm shares the same area codes and prefix numbers as our guys in Dept.35."

"Marty this is way too much for me to take in. You mean our organization, all that staff and resources, share lines with the general public?"

"Well what can I say?" Martin shrugged and continued on. "So now our guy has just seconds to convince some kid named Kevey, that this is not a prank call, but a real situation, and to get a message over to Dept.35."

"Impossible." John sighed still shaking his head.

"Well, this kid Kevey, once he's over the shock that this is not one of his friends prank calling him, tells our guy that he would try to help him out. Oh and get this he asks our guy to give him a number to which he can call him back to confirm that he got the message through."

"That's impressive and smart of him." John nodded.

"Yeah were watching this Kevey now for possible recruitment in a few years. Turns out he's a whiz at programming."

"So Marty, then what happened?" John was rapidly losing his patience. Marty always dragged his stories on way too long.

"Well the kid hangs up and then starts transposing numbers on the phone. And within minutes, by his third attempt he gets to Dept.35 down the street at the Federal Building."

"That is a miracle." John nods in agreement.

"Bloody right, that's what I'm saying. So the kid gets all hysterical once he realizes that it's all legitimate and starts blubbering on the phone to the contact. He gets the message to them and they assure him all will be taken care of. He can call back our guy in Belgium and confirm with code."

"And he calls back Belgium?" John closed his eyes, grinning to himself in disbelief.

"Yeah he does in less than 10 minutes he's back talking to our guy. We also took the extra step of asking the phone company to not bill this kid for that call. He'll never know what he's done for us and for his country."

"So what were the code messages given?" John asked getting back to business.

"Belgium was 'Ethan's Charm is lost' and the D35 reply was 'At Bailey's Point'." Martin recited as if on auto response.

"Good at least that was protocol." John nodded in the affirmative.

"Yes and it saved a good many of our people who have been able to avoid exposure and elimination, while providing a safe route to get out of there."

"So where is Team Leader now?" John asked hoping for the best outcome.

"Here, safe with us, fully debriefed. And the information he provided was indeed gold." Marty shook his head and pursed his lips as he nodded incredulously at the success of the whole episode.

"So is that how we become aware of Lighthouse 2?" John spun his finger in the air to encompass the entire organization.

"Yeah well, the 'Gold' that we got from Belgium launched a secret internal invest. One shadow team started in on Docs and another on Event dates. That's how we picked up on a list of discrepancies coming out of former Lighthouse 2. A lot of misinformation was actually launched from there. And then we saw your project on the list. And realized the ramifications of it had you completed your assignment. We knew then you were fucked. You were being blind sided to the Russian activity and there was no way you would know it."

"Damn it Marty, I was set up." John interrupted wanting to make sure to emphasize the clarification of words.

"You know Jacks, you making such a mess of things is so unlike you. Next time we have a sit down, you'll have to tell me what really happened. The rumor is that it was the girl. You now know she actually saved your ass right? How you feeling by the way, all better now?" Suddenly the sarcasm was back again in Martin's voice.

"Marty, that bitch killed Steffey. _She and her dad almost_ _killed_ _me!_ I don't owe her shit. I'm just here now and ready for the hunt." John snarled at the memory of that whole assignment gone bad.

"That's my boy Johnny." Martin beamed, "Michaels is anxious to meet with you this afternoon."

"So I keep hearing." John impatiently began to tap the table with his fingers. He sighed as he wondered how much longer he would be made to wait with Crazy Marty.

"He'll give you the follow-up to Lighthouse 2 and our new assignments. I'll be there too. I get to rid back-up." Martin grinned. "You know I like that side of you better anyway."

"Don't go there Martin." John hated when Marty acted up. He would create a whole comic scenario and then keep it going long after it was no longer funny.

"Oh come on I'll be in the shadows, watching you from afar, like always. Don't worry I won't get close to your ass, unless you want me to." Martin laughed.

"Like last time you mean?" John continued to tap the table and tried to look bored. He wasn't going to react to any of Marty's games.

"Oh come on, still bitter are we? Besides you didn't know it was a gay bar. How could you. You would have crashed and burned without me escorting you. You have to admit that."

"I don't have to admit anything." John continued to tap the table to a musical beat he started to mentally hum in his head.

"Yeah but it's all on tape, you and I." Marty shot John a wicked grin.

"You know I really hate that look on your face right now." John stopped tapping his fingers and he frowned back at Marty.

"Don't worry I did damage control and started the rumor that we had our quarrel and we're pretty much over with." Martin blew John a pretend kiss and batted his eyes at him.

"Love you too Marty." John scoffed as he glared back at him.

Martin just continued to grin at John. He loved hitting on him and watching him squirm. This bantering back and forth had originally been a game of theirs to relive some of the stressful predicaments they often found themselves in out in the field. But some times Marty just didn't know when to stop.

"You know I can't even say fuck you to you now without you giving me that look, so cut it out. You're giving me the creeps. If Michaels came in and heard this I don't know what he'd think of us, Marty." John scolded him.

"Oh dear, a handsome guy like you just brings the girl out in me. Hey, I'm just checking to see what pushes your buttons, you know me. Sorry." Martin shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the floor as he continued.

"Well that's how it goes, being we're both 'Faces' in the department you know Jacks. Plus now you have a reputation to defend." Martin mentioned in all sincerity.

"Yeah right, what ever you say. Your still into that nose candy too I gather. I see it's messing with your mind Martin." John folded his hands in front of him on the table, lowered his head, and rested his chin on his hands. This waiting for Michaels was painfully too long.

"Hey it's how I keep my game on. Anyway the word is out that you're addicted to pain pills. So we all have our crutches don't we." Martin yawned and sat up straight in the chair. He arched his back and stretched his shoulders to try to revive himself again.

"What? Why that's complete nonsense, my stuffs legally prescribed by a doctor, besides, who the hell cares?" John annoyed now with that last comment, peered over at Martin.

"Exactly, as long as we get the job done, right?" Martin shot back a quick look. Martin was now also leaning forward on the back of the chair, his chin resting on top of the chair back.

John sat up and tilted his head back in Martin's direction. "Martin, you're an asshole. How much longer do we have to wait for Michaels?"

"It won't be long now I'm sure." Even Martin was getting impatient. He knew what lay ahead for John and the anticipation was gnawing away at him, and yet he fought to keep his composure and his game face. There was an awkward pause.

"How's the kid? Justin, right?" Marty asked as he truly was curious.

"Oh he's fine. He's getting bigger each day." John smiled as he remembered the cute cherub smile under a mass of soft hair on his young son's face; and then the hug he got from him as he said good-bye and left their house to fly here.

"Did he like having daddy home?" Martin asked letting a bit more sympathy ring in his voice.

"Yeah he did." John replied a bit too quickly for he wanted to drastically change the subject before it led back to questions about his wife. "How is you're target practice going?" John offered to block Martin's further probing.

"Like I said my game is on. I'm still in the top 10 on overall marksman with top 5 on sniper."

"And your other specialist certifications, what level are they at now?" John inquired hoping to keep Marty in more of an official line of thought and not dwell on John's personal family matters.

"Well now I've moved up further into munitions and explosives, with emphasis in organic and chemical fuses, plus I'm working with a new plastics team." Martin replied flatly recounting all the training he had to continuously update each year.

"Good, good." John nodded in approval. But then he felt compelled to confess, "Me, I'm still shit with a gun."

"I know John, and it's not your gun they want from you honey. Besides this time the man is going all out for your body and soul. You know that right?" Martin smiled as he leaned back and stretched his arms out to his sides to try to revive himself once again from the boredom.

"Who? What? Do you mean Michaels? Quit taunting me Marty." John smiled shaking his head for he couldn't believe how long Marty could keep the game play up.

"Yes, well, it appears you are to have a new partner." Martin shot him a quizzical face and shrugged his shoulders.

"What? And you also as my shadow?" John shot a look of surprised for Michaels had not mentioned any of this to him earlier.

_Was Martin actually being truthful or is this more games? And why would Martin know this information first before I did? _John thought as he kept his gaze on Martin waiting for further explanation.

John felt his anger coming to the surface as Marty stayed silent. "Damn it Marty, why didn't you tell me this sooner?" John sat up straight in the chair, his fists clenched ready to deck Martin.

The small hanging phone on the wall in the back corner of the room rang twice and then stopped. Both men turned to look at it.

"Oh come on dear it's time. Let's us girls go meet with Michaels shall we?" Martin Stood up and walked out and held the door open for John to follow him.

"Oh fuck." John grumbled as he stood up and walked out too.

"Welcome home John." Martin patted John on the shoulder as they walked down the long hallway, continued around a corner, and made their way to Michael's office.


	6. Chapter 6 Close to Something Real

**Close to Something Real,**

In the half light of the pre-dawn hours, while the clouds were just wisps of faint pink against the indigo sky, a private jet, a Hawker 800xp, quietly landed at a small deserted air strip located in the countryside not too far from the Florida coast. There was absolutely nothing at this location. There were no building structures, nor any people at this site. It was just one small runway used only occasionally by undisclosed personnel.

The jet, which carried up to 6 passengers, was a non-descriptive white, with only its ID numbers listed on one fuselage and small US flag decals on each side of its tail. It taxied to the end of the runway and stopped.

The doors to the jet did not open, nor did any one come up to its side. The 2 pilots could easily be seen through their cockpit window checking over their controls, as they waited. It was 5:00 in the morning.

By 5:30 the sun was just peeking over the horizon in its blazing liquid gold of first light. The once pink clouds were now aglow in brilliant colors of orange, amber, and white. The jet waited.

At 5:45 two dark vehicles, one a black Lincoln Town Car, followed closely by a black stretch limousine, drove up from a small, unmarked, frontage road along side the airstrip. The vehicles drove as a team, the first car traveling at a high rate of speed, the second car right behind it almost touching its bumper. Both cars were speeding towards the jet.

The windows of both vehicles were tinted, so visibility of the occupants within was limited. These cars made the final turn that brought them up on a small rise overlooking the airstrip. Then they sped down the final length of the road to the waiting jet.

Both cars pulled to a stop alongside the jet. All 4 doors of the Town Car flew open and 4 men, in dark suits and sunglasses, got out and walked over to the limousine. They each stood at the car's 4 doors. But they did not open the doors nor peer inside. Instead each man turned and faced away from the car. Each looked around, scanning the horizon and countryside, surrounding the car. They quickly searched for anything not authorized to be here at this location, at this time. These men were here not just to escort the occupants, but to also offer protection should any one try to intercept their transport.

A closer scrutiny of these 4 men would have revealed that each one wore a small ear bud in one ear with its wire running to a receiver hidden somewhere within their clothing; each carried a gun and holster underneath their coat; and each held a very small hand radio which they spoke into giving an unknown recipient status updates on their situation.

The front passenger door of the limousine opened and out stepped another man also dressed in a dark suit. This man was much taller than the other 4, and somewhat older. He even looked more menacing than the others. His hair was short and blonde. His facial features were chiseled and clean shaven. His build was very muscular. With his height and build he could almost pass for a professional weightlifter or a pro NFL player. Like the other 4 men he wore sunglasses even in this early morning light.

He walked to the door behind him and opened it, addressing the occupants inside. "Okay, let's go." His voice was firm and to the point.

He held the door open as a man and a woman stepped out of the limousine. "Hurry," He ordered as he quickly led them to the jet. Clutching their jackets the couple silently complied and hurriedly followed behind the blonde man towards the jet.

The side hatch door of the jet had opened, out folded a small staircase. The three now quickly climbed and disappeared into the interior of the plane.

A fourth man had now exited the back side door of the limousine. He stood in conference with the 4 men that were still standing watch. Two of those four now quickly ran and entered the jet. The remaining two returned back to the Lincoln Town Car. The single man now walked to the limousine driver and briefly spoke to him.

Almost in unison, the two vehicles, plus the jet, all started up their engines. This last man now made his way quickly to the jet, as the two cars sped off back down the frontage road. The dark vehicles moved once again with the same deliberate speed and urgency as when they came.

At 6:00 AM, with all its occupants now inside, the hatch door secured and closed, the jet came to life. It taxied into position at the end of the runway and then raced along, picking up speed and lifted up into the air as efficiently and effortlessly as it had landed. The jet banked one quick turn and then headed north.


End file.
